


you stole my cauldron but you can't have my heart (so kiss me maybe)

by AvaRosier



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hogwarts AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21552952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaRosier/pseuds/AvaRosier
Summary: Harry Potter AU. Just marshmallow fluff with a smear of pining-type angst. Rated T because teenagers. Title courtesy of Celestina Warbeck, mostly. Look, when it comes to house sortings, there are characters I feel flexible on, and then there are certain characters I Feel Very Strongly About And Will Fight You If You Disagree So Don’t Even Try.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	you stole my cauldron but you can't have my heart (so kiss me maybe)

Even the bathrooms in Ravenclaw Tower had an entire wall of windows, half of which were cranked open to let in the faint light of early morning. The cool breeze was a blessing in the heavily humid girls’ bathroom, but it was also a curse because of course Robb had dragged the Gryffindor Quidditch team out onto the pitch at the crack of dawn. Sansa could hear her brother shouting commands, or just plain yelling at his teammates.

(“OI LORAS! YOU WANT TO PREEN, WAIT UNTIL YOU CAN SEE YOUR REFLECTION IN THE SNITCH.” “Greyjoy! There’s a difference between ‘getting it in’ with girls and 'letting the bloody quaffle through the goal’!” “Stone and Snow, tighten your turns! You’re on a broomstick not a horse.” There was some shouting, presumably as Jon tried to restrain Mya from hexing Robb. Sansa resisted the urge to go peek out the window in the direction of the pitch. Gryffindor was playing Hufflepuff next weekend and she knew her brother sorely wanted to beat them. No small feat since their team had Brienne Tarth, Meera Reed, Alysane Mormont, and Edric Dayne. Arya had, to date, not been able to strongarm her way onto the team, but next year she would be able to try out.

Intellectually, Sansa understood why final exams were held in the spring, shortly before Hogwarts released their students for the summer. At the same time, she hated that the first signs of the spring thaw, when the sun poked through the gray clouds and the flowers began to bloom- all that occurred while she was fervently trying to study for her OWLs. Springtime was the enemy to motivation, she was convinced.

It was also the perfect time to be lovesick.

Which Sansa was resolutely not, thankyouverymuch.

 _It’s only a kiss_ , she chastised herself as she pointed her wand at her hair and murmured a de-frizzing charm before she began separating the strands into sections and twisting them into an elaborate braid. And besides, she really needed to be focusing on her upcoming exams, which were just over two months away, not mooning over Jon Snow. Even if he was a really good kisser. Sansa sighed wistfully.

“You’re doing it again,” Sarella pointed out factually, sounding neither smug nor judgmental. _Of course_ she would have noticed Sansa beginning to daydream about Jon: ever since she had shorn her hair off, the other girl’s morning routine was cut considerably down.

Sansa yanked the last few inches of her hair into the braid, huffing. “Ugh, I told you guys, I can’t seem to stop!” She tied the end off and turned to address the rest of the bathroom’s inhabitants. “I’d almost think I was given a Love Potion.”

“Doubtful,” Missandei said with a furrowed brow. “At least not coming from Jon himself, and the only people who would do such a sneaky thing are more motivated to break you two apart.” _Well, she would know_ , Sansa thought, given that she was friends with a certain white-haired Slytherin in their year who still hadn’t forgiven Jon for turning her down for the Yule Ball two years ago.

“I thought that would make me feel better, but that doesn’t make me feel better.” Sansa sighed and straightened her blue-and-bronze tie. How on earth was she going to make it through Transfiguration with the Gryffindors without staring at Jon the entire time? 

Myrcella timidly held her hand up to get their attention. “I guess I’m the only one who’s confused about why this whole thing is a problem? And since when do you avoid infatuation, Sansa?” Whereas Sansa enjoyed the process of manually braiding her hair, Myrcella managed to keep up with all the latest hair charms from Witch Weekly, keeping her golden locks in artfully spelled curls down her back. She made a valid point- Sansa was usually the one in their circle of friends that was always mooning after someone. 

“Since I got so wrapped up in Harry Hardyng that my grades were slipping even before he dumped me. And besides, I need to do really well on my OWLs, remember? Professor Martell said I have to get a high score in Arithmancy and you know maths has never been my strongest suit.” It didn’t help that Professor Baelish made her skin crawl every time his cold eyes roved over her body or the way he would hover over her shoulder as she was doing a calculation. He’d offered to give her private lessons but all Sansa had been able to remember was the disturbing way he’d purred that she looked so much like her mother way back when she was a first-year, and so she’d lied and said some of her housemates were tutoring her.

All girls nodded sagely; they, too, felt the pressure to do well for the sake of their futures. Oberyn Martell was not only the school’s resident Potions professor, he was their Head of House and surprisingly exacting in his expectations for his students. During career counseling, when Sansa had expressed her interest in working for the International Confederation of Wizards, he had _hm_ ’d and wandered around his office thumbing through sheafs of scrolls before locating something and informing her of precisely which OWLs she would have to take and pass in order to take the NEWT level classes that would qualify her for that particular career field. 

There was nothing like the crushing sense of responsibility to distract one from one’s own hormones. 

Jon Snow was just going to have to keep his lips to himself from now on.


End file.
